


Eventually

by alyoraShadow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 22:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3150239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyoraShadow/pseuds/alyoraShadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James knew Lily would succumb to his charm, eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eventually

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been a long time coming - I've been planning bits of it in my head for over ten years, and wrote the earliest scenes over two years ago. Thanks to everyone who helped me think the story through, but especially to Scribe and my sister, who both betaed and brainstormed multiple versions. It took a lot of work to get Lily and James together, and I couldn't have done it without their help!

If someone had asked Lily Evans what she hated the most about James Potter, she would have been hard pressed to pick just one answer. He was condescending and self-satisfied, with a tendency to bully other students. He insisted on asking her out, despite her repeated and emphatic rejections. He took for granted the advantages that his family’s wealth and pure-blood status offered him in the wizarding world, and seemed unaware that his effortless good grades, good looks, and immense popularity were things other people had to actually _work_ for. In general, Lily considered herself to be an easy going and friendly girl. But there had never been anyone who could get under her skin like Potter.

It was therefore unfortunate that Lily was going to have to work in such close proximity to Potter this year. As Head Girl and Head Boy, they would share enough responsibilities to make her usual tactics of avoidance impossible. She would have to find another strategy, and she would have to find it fast. The only problem was that nothing had ever worked. 

“First years!” she shouted, raising her voice to be heard over the din of students exiting the Great Hall. “Gryffindor first years, follow me!” She glanced around the hall, attempting to spot Potter’s messy black hair. He was nowhere to be found. Apparently he’d left with his friends, presumably ignorant of - or indifferent to - the fact that the Head Students were expected to lead the new first years to Gryffindor tower. 

“Off to a great start,” she muttered to herself, scanning the mess of students streaming from the Great Hall, trying to ascertain if any of them were her responsibility. “On the other hand, if he doesn’t show up, then I guess I don’t have to work with him.”

For the thousandth time, Lily wondered what Dumbledore could possibly have been thinking when he had named Potter Head Boy. She hadn’t thought that non-prefects were even _allowed_ to be Heads. Wasn’t that just like Potter? Breaking rules and ignoring convention, waltzing his way to success, while everyone else had to put in years of hard work just to keep up. It was amazing how far wealth, charm, and good looks could get you, even at Hogwarts. 

Meanwhile, a handful of overwhelmed looking eleven-year-olds had materialized in front of her while she’d been stewing over Potter. He hadn’t even shown up, and he was still managing to derail her. But Lily refused to let him get to her. Instead, Lily smiled warmly at the new Gryffindors and led them out the door and up a flight of stairs, offering a steady, comforting stream of commentary as they went. She tried to ignore the dark looks shot in her direction as they passed a group of seventh year Slytherins. She supposed that the idea of a Muggle-born Head Girl was ruffling a few feathers, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She was Head Girl of Hogwarts, the place she loved better than any other on earth, and nothing was going to stand in her way. 

Not even James Potter.

She stopped in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. “Behind this portrait is the entrance to the Gryffindor common room,” she told the sea of wide-eyed children before her. “To open it, you just need to know the password. Don’t share it with people from other houses – even friends, and do try not to write it down.” Nine heads nodded solemnly. 

“Alright,” she said, with another smile. “The password is _initium novum_.” At her words, the portrait swung open, and the cozy light of the common room spilled out into the hallway. 

“Everyone in!” Lily said, waiting until the last of them had clambered through before she headed in as well. 

She smiled at the sight of the Gryffindor common room, rounds walls and plush armchairs now as familiar to her as her own parents’ house. The room was as chaotic as she’d expected, filled with the noisy reunions and scattered belongings of dozens of excited teenagers back from summer holiday. As she pointed the first years in the direction of their rooms, she realized that a number of the occupants of the common room seemed to be waiting for something. To her surprise, she spotted Potter in their midst, evidently arbitrating some sort of disagreement between two second year boys. 

“What’s going on?” she asked one of the watching students.

“James said he could help sort out problems like lost trunks and stuff,” the girl responded. “Everyone’s waiting to talk to him. Maybe you can help?”

I’m probably more help than Potter, Lily wanted to respond, offering a kind nod instead. She was immediately swamped by younger students vying for her attention. There were quite a number of them: students who had left belongs behind at home or on the train (Lily took down notes, although nothing could be done until the morning); a boy who claimed that the house elves had rearranged the room over the holiday (not surprisingly, this turned out to be his roommates); a few who decided they hadn’t eaten enough at the feast and wanted to know if they could have more food (they couldn’t, of course). By the time she’d managed to sort out the third year girl angrily refusing to “breathe the same air” as her roommates, Lily was developing the beginnings of a horrible headache. 

Thankfully, the common room was largely deserted, and Potter was already talking to the last of the younger students. Potter had the tearful boy sitting in one of the plush armchairs, while he crouched in front of him. Lily moved a bit closer, trying to overhear the conversation without intruding. 

“It’s okay to be homesick, you know,” Potter was reassuring the boy. “I bet most of the other boys are too. They’re just hiding it.”

The first year looked doubtful, and Potter leaned closer conspiratorially. “Can I tell you a secret?” the boy nodded. “ _I_ was homesick on my first night at Hogwarts. Everything is so big, and so different! It’s a lot to take in all at once, right?”

The boy nodded miserably, and Potter gave his shoulders a friendly shake. “Well just you _wait_ ‘til tomorrow. You’re going to start making loads of friends, and learning spells. Plus, tomorrow in class, Professor McGonagall is going to turn herself into a _cat!_ Isn’t that brilliant?”

The boy gave a weak smile, and Potter clapped him on the back. “’Atta boy! You’re going to love it here, I promise.” He fished around in his pocket, and pulled out a handful of chocolate frogs.

“Now you take these up to the boys in your room, alright? I bet you’ll find out how friendly they can be! Plus, if you need to talk again, my room is the one at the top of the stairs, okay?”

Will nodded, wiped his eyes, and took the proffered chocolate, looking substantially more cheerful. “Thanks!” he said, and headed towards the stairs.

Despite herself, Lily was impressed. She hadn’t thought Potter’s signature blend of self-absorption and irresponsibility would be well suited for interacting with younger students. As much as it pained her to admit that he might have another, less objectionable side, she supposed that Dumbledore might have _possibly_ had some reason to appoint him.

“Well, Potter,” she said, attempting a civil tone, “that was…well-managed.” She couldn’t quite bring herself to offer a more effusive compliment. Their joint Headship might require some kind of truce, but even that didn’t mean she thought well of him. 

Potter offered her a brilliant smile. “Liked what you saw, did you?” he asked, running a hand through his already-messy black hair, a move which Lily absolutely detested.

“No,” Lily replied shortly, trying to curb her rising frustration. There were still first years around, she reminded herself, and she didn’t want to upset them on their first night in the castle. Besides, Potter was not worth getting worked up over. He was not. “I just meant, I appreciated how you handled that problem,” she ground out stiffly.

“Well, I know how you can thank me,” he leered at her. 

Lily fought to keep a hold on her temper. Conversations with Potter always went this way, which was why she normally tried to avoid them altogether. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d sworn to her friends and to herself that she was done fighting with him, vowed she would not react, however sorely he provoked her. But Potter was just too infuriating. Everyone else seemed to see him as some golden boy, blind to the flaws she found so incredibly obvious. To her, Potter would always be the bully she’d met on the Hogwarts Express all those years ago. The admiration of the rest of the school wasn’t ever going to change that, and his own self-satisfaction only made it worse. 

“Perhaps you didn’t notice it, Potter, but I just _did_ thank you. Apparently it was an utterly useless endeavor. I’m sorry I wasted my breath. But if you think that I would - ” 

“Go out with me, Evans,” Potter said smoothly, cutting her off. “Go out with me, and this kind of ‘responsible Head Boy’ behavior will happen every day.”

It was amazing, Lily thought, how he still managed to find new ways to repulse her. Even knowing what she already knew of him, Potter’s awful streak never failed to astonish. 

“You’re – you’re – _disgusting_ , do you know that?” she spat. “How you can want to date a girl who you _know_ loathes you –”

“Loathes is such an unpleasant word, Evans. I like to say that I arouse your passion.”

“-someone who’d only be putting up with you to _bribe_ you to behave, how that kind of coercion can _possibly_ appeal to you–”

“I know that you’d succumb to my charms eventually.” 

“It’s utterly and completely despicable! I don’t know what Dumbledore was thinking, making you Head Boy. I don’t care how limited his options were – I would have been better off with Mulciber!” 

“HEY!” Potter said, finally goaded into a response. Lily knew this shouldn’t please her, since she was supposed to be avoiding a scene, but somehow it was better to have him angry than cocky. “At least I don’t practice the Dark Arts! But I suppose you like all that. Wishing I was darling Snivillus, were you?”

“Not particularly,” Lily said icily. She folded her lips tightly. If Potter started on her former best friend, Lily might do something she’d really regret. Something in her tone penetrated even Potter’s selfish oblivion, and he didn’t push the point. 

The two head students glared at each other in stony silence.

“Okay, look,” Lily said finally. “I don’t like you, you don’t like me –” Potter opened his mouth to object, but she cut him off. “You hate me, you love me; I honestly don’t care which it is. The point is – we don’t get along. Clearly. But we’re going to have to find a way to try. Maybe we should develop some, I don’t know, rules of collaboration, since we have to be able to work more closely this year.”

“Evans, I’d _love_ the chance to work more closely with you,” Potter said smoothly, all evidence of anger gone, his voice suddenly deeper. Lily wanted to hit him. Somehow, she managed not to.

“First rule,” she snapped. “You can’t ask me out. You can’t flirt with me. You can’t make suggestive comments, or whatever you want to call them. You can’t send me flowers, or chocolates, or serenade me in front of the school at dinner.”

Potter raised his eyebrows, but didn’t comment. “What else?”

“As much as I dislike it, Dumbledore made us partners,” Lily continued. “I don’t want to end up pulling your weight. We’ll each have a share of head responsibilities, and you really need to stand by what you say you’ll do.”

“That seems reasonable,” Potter said mildly.

“Thirdly, you have to stop getting into all kinds of mischief. You’re the Head Boy – Merlin knows why – which means that you’re going to be a role model for the younger students. I can’t begin to work with someone who doesn’t take that seriously.”

“Those seem like good rules,” Potter said.

Lily was skeptical. “So – you agree?”

“We’ll see,” he told her, leaning in and kissing her on the cheek. “Night, sweetheart. Hope you have sweet dreams – I know I will.”

Lily spluttered angrily. “What was the _first rule_ – ”

“I’m a Marauder,” Potter laughed, with a wide grin. “You of all people should know, Evans - I don’t set much store by following the rules.” He gave her a flirtatious wink, and headed off towards the stairs, whistling.

Lily sighed. It was going to be a long year. 

 

* * *

 

The fight that occurred the week before Halloween in Lily and James’ seventh year had all the hallmarks of their typical fights. It started in much the usual way, with an elaborate Marauder plot aimed at the Slytherins. James thought the prank had been hilarious, but dear Evans, of course, considered it absolutely unacceptable.

It didn’t take long for her to hear about it; the whole school was buzzing with the story. Everyone knew the Marauders were the only ones clever enough to develop and implement something this elaborate, even if none of them had been caught. They never were - they were the best, after all. It was nice, James thought modestly, when true brilliance was acknowledged and appreciated for what it was. 

Unfortunately, Evans confronted him outside the Great Hall before dinner. “A word, Potter?” she said coldly, pulling him aside.

James felt his stomach give the flip he always felt when Evans was around. “What can I do for you?” he asked, with what he hoped was a winning smile. He caught himself fiddling nervously with a galleon in his pocket, and stopped himself. It wasn’t every day she initiated a conversation with him. He had limited opportunities to impress her, and he wanted to make them all count. 

“I heard about the prank you played on the Slytherins,” she said, radiating disapproval. He noticed, irrelevantly, that the green of her sweater matched her eyes exactly. Did girls do that sort of thing on purpose? It was incredibly distracting. He ran a hand through his hair, a habit other girls had told him was sexy. It hadn’t worked on Evans yet, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t some day.

“I can neither confirm nor deny my involvement in this alleged prank,” he said, a broad grin inviting her to share the joke. Her severe expression didn’t alter, and he swallowed a sigh. “Honestly, Evans, it was just a bit of fun.”

“A bit of _fun_?” she repeated frostily. Evans was as smart as they came, but she had no sense of mischief. The clever plan, the daring execution, the deft evasion of discovery – these things were the essence of being a Marauder. Everyone in the school admired their boldness and appreciated their humor. Everyone, that was, except for Lily Evans. 

“Need I remind you that you are _Head Boy_ and as such are expected to set an _example_ for your fellow students? I hardly think filling the Slytherin common room with floating dung bombs qualifies. And using Bubotuber puss? That’s dangerous!”

“I can’t imagine anyone noticed the difference,” he said airily. 

The students who had gathered to watch the escalating confrontation snickered. James’ smile widened; Evans glared. 

“How on earth are we supposed to enforce the rules if you continually show a blatant disregard for them?” she hissed.

“Nobody thinks less of me because I prank the Slytherins!” James replied heatedly. Evans was always so quick to defend them, as if the bunch aspiring Death Eaters were all as innocent as baby Nifflers– occasionally disruptive, sure, but ultimately well meaning. “Everyone knows they’re slimy gits who deserve everything they get and more!” Some of the onlookers gave a ragged cheer, and Evans’ cheeks flushed an angry pink. It was a danger sign that James knew all too well. 

“Slytherins are Hogwarts students too, Potter!”

“If they can’t be bothered to exhibit basic decency towards us, I don’t see why I should extend it to them!” 

“Oh you’re a _fine_ one to talk about basic decency!”

“The stuff I pull is a far sight nicer than anything coming from that House! I don’t see how you, of all people –” 

“Potter! Evans!”

They both fell abruptly silent as Professor McGonagall came into the entrance hall. Evans flushed a darker pink, and shot James a poisonous look. He wanted to protest – _she_ had started it, after all – but even he knew better than to pick a second fight in front of McGonagall. Not that James minded aggravating the Deputy Headmistress for a good cause. Still, Evans was obviously bothered - he could tell from the tightness in her shoulders that she was embarrassed – and he didn’t want to make it worse for her. 

“My fault, Professor,” he told McGonagall smoothly. No doubt Evans would be impressed by his maturity, stepping in to protect her from censure. He flashed her a wide, reassuring smile. She ignored him.

“No doubt,” McGonagall replied. “But the rest of the school is eating dinner, so if you two don’t mind, perhaps Miss Evans can finish what I am sure was a well-deserved scolding on some other, more private, occasion…”

With a severe glanced at the watching students, McGonagall turned and reentered the Great Hall. Evans followed her, cheeks still bright with rage. James felt an unaccountable urge to apologize – for the prank, for the fight, for the reprimand – but she didn’t so much as glance back at him. Instead he followed her inside the Hall, affecting a breezy indifference he didn’t feel. 

As he picked at his food, James tried to ignore the miserable, guilty feeling that often followed a fight with Evans. He hadn’t meant to provoke her; he never did. But somehow conversations with Evans never went the way he wanted them to. Even when he was trying his best to impress her, she only ever seemed to find him aggravating. It was all so _unfair_. 

“You okay Prongs?” Pete asked, around a mouthful of shepherd’s pie. “You’ve barely even touched your food.”

“Withering under the scorn of the lovely Miss Evans?” Sirius inquired. 

“No,” James said, in a tone that even he could tell was unconvincing. 

“That’s a yes,” Sirius sighed, shaking his head. “It’s not worth your time, Prongs!” 

“It’s just - why doesn’t she _like_ me?” James whined, staring down at his uneaten plate. “I’m handsome, I’m charming, I’m smart and talented – I mean what more could a girl want?”

“I dunno mate,” Peter said, always supportive if rather unhelpful, “I think you’re brilliant.”

“Of course he’s brilliant!” Sirius said indignantly. “He’s James Potter! There are scores of girls in this school who would kill to go out with him. Battles could be waged over the right to ask him to Hogsmeade. Quidditch fields could be filled with the eager contenders for his affections. Maybe its time to give up on Evans and go for one of them, Prongs.”

“I can’t,” James sighed morosely. “I’ve tried before, Pads, and its no use. You know it isn’t.”

“That just means you need to try someone else,” Sirius said impatiently. “And ever since you’ve been Head Boy you’ve been far too busy mooning over Evans to do it! Is this any way for a Marauder to act?”

“He doesn’t have to snog other girls if he doesn’t want to,” Peter said loyally.

“I don’t want anyone else – just her.” James insisted. “There just must be another way to make her like me. But what can I do? I’ve tried everything.”

“You could send her more flowers?” Peter suggested doubtfully. 

“She threw the last ones he sent out the window,” Remus reminded them, barely glancing up from the book he was reading. 

“Do you have a better idea?” James said petulantly. “You’re supposed to be the reasonable one, Moony. What can I do to make her give me a chance?”

Remus sighed and closed his book. James ignored the exasperated look his friend gave him; Moony read too much anyways. If he hadn’t wanted to participate in the conversation, he would have continued ignoring them in favor of his book. It was his standard way of indicating that He Did Not Intend to Participate in this Particular Hair-brained Plot, Thank You Very Much. If the book was closed, bothering Moony was fair game.

“Well?” he persisted. “You spent all those hours patrolling with her back when you were both prefects, surely she gave you some clue as to what I’m doing wrong.”

“The whole school knows what you’re doing wrong,” Remus said. “She shouts it at you every time the two of you have a row.”

“Er, which bit would that be, exactly?”

“Wormtail, do your impression of Lily shouting at Prongs.”

“ _I hate you, James Potter_ ,” Peter said, in his squeaky, high falsetto, “ _You are the most annoying, self-satisfied, arrogant toe-rag in this entire school! Hexing everyone in sight, tormenting darling Severus day and night - you make me SICK_.” 

James laughed weakly. Even with Peter’s comically poor impersonation, it still hurt him to hear Lily’s scorn. “Sounds about right,” he admitted. 

“That’s your to-do list,” Remus said. 

“Come again?”

“That list that Pete just rattled off, off the top of his head, that’s what you’re doing wrong. Hexing people, pranking Snape, acting cocky – that’s what aggravates her. If you want her to be able to tolerate your presence for more than a few minutes, you should consider cutting back a bit.”

“Are you saying that Prongs should _change who he is_ for some _girl_?” Sirius asked, appalled.

“Evans is not just some –” James began heatedly, but Remus cut him off.

“Of course not,” he said impatiently. “James doesn’t need to change who he is. But honestly, Prongs, you’re always at your worst around her. You try to impress her by talking suavely and hexing everyone, but it just shows her the side of you she’s least likely to admire.” 

“You aren’t cocky around us,” Peter put in, eagerly. “You’re loads better at Transfiguration than I am, but you never make me feel bad when I need you to explain things.” 

“Pointing out your sterling qualities is the wrong way to impress her,” Remus said. “But if you stop making an utter arse of yourself every time she’s around, maybe she’d put up with you long enough to see them for herself.”

James considered this for a moment. It was obvious Sirius thought the plan was stupid, but he rather thought Moony might have a point. He wasn’t sure _why_ he always had to make an idiot of himself when Evans was around. It was just that sometimes he felt he would burst with how smart and funny and, well, _Lily_ , she was. And she never even noticed him, except to see an annoyance, and he’d have to do _something_ , just to matter for a moment. And yet the inevitable upshot of this system was that, indeed, he was always at his worst around Lily Evans. 

“You may, possibly, have a point,” he conceded, over Sirius’ muffled sound of objection. “Sometimes when Evans is around I might act a bit immature. I could probably try to, you know…not.” 

Peter nodded encouragingly. Sirius looked disgusted, Remus amused. James wasn’t sure how he felt. The idea was daunting, but James was sick of the way Evans looked at him. If there was something – _anything_ – that he could do to change that, well, then it was worth a shot. 

“I’m sure you have it in you,” Remus told him. “I know you do, I’ve seen it.”

“But let me just say,” James added, “if I’m going to have to just roll over and put up with whatever crap Snivillus throws at me – ”

“Snivillus is an exception,” Remus admitted. “But maybe try not to hex him when Lily is around?”

 

The fight that occurred the week before Halloween in Lily and Jamses’ seventh year had all the hallmarks of their typical fights. It was, however, distinguishable from its numerous predecessors in that it was the last major fight James and Lily ever had. Even their rows as a married couple were rather tame. Sirius sometimes joked that their idea of a lovers’ quarrel was to calmly discuss a problem until they reached a reasonable compromise, and this wasn’t so far from the truth. James attributed it entirely to Lily, saying she simply lacked the ability to really have a go at anyone she loved. Lily, however, always maintained they’d gotten it out of the way in school, back when their only mode of interaction was furious quarrel.

 

* * *

 

Oddly enough, patrolling had always been one of the things Lily liked about being a prefect. This was not, as Mary claimed, because Lily was a hopeless rule-enforcement junkie. Truth be told, she was not overly fond of doling out punishment to the classmates she found wandering the corridors after hours, though she’d admit that some of her nastier classmates made it a pleasure. It was simply nice to have time set aside twice a week that couldn’t be spent on Potions homework or Transfiguration essays, or even discussing which of the boys expressing interest in Marlene were worth paying attention to (none ever were). Plus, Lily was most often paired with Remus for patrols, and she enjoyed their quiet chats that ranged from wizarding history to Muggle literature. 

Of course seventh year brought an end to that, in the form of one James Potter.

Unlike the prefects, who patrolled on a rotating bi-weekly schedule, the Head students patrolled together nightly. Which meant she was stuck patrolling with Potter _every bloody night_. Lily endured the hour of boasts and brags – peppered with frequent attempts at charm and seduction – as best she could. Mary and Marlene had a bet going on how long Lily could last before stuffing Potter in a closet and finishing the rounds on her own. Lily hadn’t been allowed to participate, but she thought their late November bets – still several weeks away – were highly optimistic.

On the other hand, Lily thought, as she paused in her sweep of a corridor to peer in an empty classroom, if Potter was going to start skipping out on patrols, she wasn’t likely to have the opportunity to decapitate him on one. She hadn’t seen much of Potter this week - Black had muttered something about “family matters” calling him home for a few days, but that was all she knew. Lily wasn’t sure he was to be believed; creating a mysteriously ill distant relation seemed exactly the sort of thing Potter might pull to get out of rounds for a few days. And even if Black had been telling the truth, Potter was supposed to have been back by now. She wasn’t at all surprised he was nowhere to be seen. 

It was such typical Potter, Lily thought, conveniently forgetting that he had missed surprisingly few of his Head responsibilities in the two and a half months since school had started, despite her dire predictions in September. He was probably off on some lark, ignoring the fact that he was supposed to be looking for trouble-makers tonight, not joining their ranks. Never mind that Lily was stuck patrolling, never mind that she might have something she wanted to do more than wander the darkened school alone…

Turning down a new hallway, she stopped as a noise interrupted her internal tirade against Potter. It took a minute before the sound registered as someone sobbing.

“Who’s there?” she asked gently, wondering what poor mixed-blood first year Avery and Mulciber’s crowd (she would _not_ think about Severus) had been tormenting tonight. She held her wand up to illuminate her face as she moved closer, not wanting to frighten the child.

“There’s no need to be –” Lily broke off as the circle of her wandlight fell on the student crumpled miserably at the foot of some stairs. 

“Potter?” she said in utter astonishment. 

The miserable boy in front of her was hardly recognizable as the arrogant prat from her thoughts just moments ago. Lily had never seen Potter look so wretched.

“Merlin,” she breathed. “What’s happened?”

“Oh – hi,” he said thickly, swiping ineffectively at his face. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I guess,” he said in a low, trembling voice that suggested otherwise. “It’s just…my dad. There was a Muggle attack near our house last week and he went to help…and he…”

“Oh James,” Lily said softly, sitting down besides him. Apparently Black had been telling the truth, and the situation was far worse than he’d even implied. “I’m so sorry.”

Potter buried his face in his hands and wept silently, shoulders shaking. Lily sat quietly besides him while he cried, unsure how to act. What was the protocol for offering sympathy to someone you generally despised? She didn’t think she should rub his back or hug him, as she might with Mary or Marlene. She settled for what she hoped would come off as silent sympathy, rather than stony indifference.

After a few minutes Potter took a shuddering breath and wiped his eyes. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t be silly,” Lily replied. “I can’t imagine…” she trailed off. What could she say? What was there ever to say?

“Yeah,” he replied heavily.

“When did it happen?” 

“Six days ago,” Potter told her. “Last Tuesday night. I can’t believe it’s already been almost a week, actually. I was home for the memorial this weekend, which was…awful, really. I needed to be with my mother, though.”

“I remember when my gran died, it helped to be with people who knew her, who knew what I was going through. It must be hard to be back at school.” 

“I dunno. It’s good to have the distraction, I think. But sometime it just hits me, and I –” 

His voice broke and his eyes flooded over. Lily offered him a tissue and they sat in silence once more. This time she felt more confident that the silence suggested pity rather than resentment. 

“What was he like?” she asked after a time, finally hitting on something to say. 

“Wonderful,” Potter relied. “He worked for the Ministry, stupid job pushing paper, way beneath him, but he loved it. He used to tell me that policy was conceived by those on top, but made a reality by the people at the bottom. He worked long hours for basically nothing, but he always had a smile for everyone. Especially me and my mum. We were his world.”

“It sounds like he was a great person.”

“He – he was.” Potter paused. “It’s weird to talk about him in the past tense. Now that I’m back at school, part of me feels like it must be a mistake, and he’s got to be back at home. It was just so sudden, you know? It’s not like he was sick, and had time to prepare. We never knew it was coming. We had no idea.” 

“It’s hard when you don’t have a warning,” Lily agreed. 

“But its what he would have wanted,” Potter said firmly. “Fighting for what he believed in. Protecting people he cared about. It’s how I’d want to go.”

“He’s a hero,” Lily said softly. “You should be proud.”

“I already was. But – he saved a little girl’s life that night. It’s nice to know that if he had to…you know…at least there was a reason.”

Lily nodded. 

“Anyway, I just had to get away for a bit. Sirius is nearly as bad as I am – my parents have practically adopted him, you know – and Remus is so bloody understanding and Peter kept looking at me with these big, worried eyes.” Potter offered a weak smile. “I dunno, I just wanted to be alone.”

Lily started, guiltily. She should have realized that Potter was probably sitting alone in a deserted corridor by choice; it wasn’t as though he lacked friends. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother…”

“That’s okay,” he said quietly, looking at her for perhaps the first time since she’d sat down. “Being alone was actually worse. But what were you doing out at this hour?”

“Well, patrols,” Lily said lightly, hoping she didn’t sound critical.

“Patrols…” Potter repeated slowly, as if it was a foreign concept he was trying to place. 

“Patrols…oh no! What time is it? Did you waste a lot of time looking for me? I hope you didn’t patrol alone! Did you run into trouble? I didn’t mean to shirk, I just lost track–” 

“James, please,” Lily said cutting him off. He looked slightly frantic. “It’s fine. You had other things on your mind.” 

It had been years since Lily had called Potter by his first name. As housemates in the same year, they’d started Hogwarts on a first-name basis. By third year Lily’s aggravation with him had grown, and she resented the intimacy it seemed to imply. Following the Great Hall Embarrassment of ’73 – which was noteworthy only as the _first_ of many public humiliations Potter had caused by asking her out in front of the entire school – Lily had categorically refused to call him James. 

She’d slipped twice now in one night, but Potter hadn’t seemed to notice either time. Lily was relieved – as sorry as she felt for him now, she didn’t put it past him to lord a small act of kindness over her in the harsh light of day. 

“It’s nearly eleven o’clock,” Lily said, glancing at her watch and rising to her feet. “Let me walk you back to Gryffindor. I’m sure your friends are starting to wonder where you are, and you should try to sleep.”

“I’m sure they know exactly where I am,” Potter muttered cryptically. Lily wondered if he usually chose this specific hallway to cry in, but forbore asking. She didn’t want to fight with him tonight, but she didn’t think they’d ever gone this long without a row.

“Well even so, I imagine Remus is anxiously awaiting the chance to give you some chocolate. Black is probably making one of his mysterious Honeydukes runs in your honor – the ones that must break a dozen school rules at least, and so of course I know nothing about. You don’t want to deny him the chance to share his ill gotten goods, or he’ll sulk for days.”

Potter gave her a half-hearted smile, and got to his feet. “That sounds about right. How do you know so much, Evans?”

“I have my ways,” she responded.

The two walked back to Gryffindor in what might almost have been termed companionable silence. Potter seemed to be using the time to pull himself together. And if Lily noticed him swiping surreptitiously at his eyes, she was tactful enough to ignore it. 

As they reached the portrait hole, Potter stopped. “Hey, did you call me James earlier?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lily told him with a straight face, and was rewarded with a real smile.

 

* * *

 

It was more difficult than James had anticipated to stop fighting with Evans.

He’d started his new campaign - “Moony’s Maturity Plan,” as Padfoot had dubbed it – with high hopes. Moony thought there was a side of his personality Evans would like! All he had to do was act that way around her; how hard could that be?

Quite hard, apparently. James hadn’t realized how ingrained his pattern of interaction with Evans had become. For years, he’d tried to impress her by drawing her attention. That tactic was failing spectacularly, but it was hard for James to let his old habits go. Often, in those early weeks, he’d find himself responding with his customary confident and flirtatious air, until he’d remember to stop the escalating confrontation before it devolved into conflict. 

Even when James did remember not to bait her it seemed that Evans was determined to believe the worst of him, interpreting even innocent remarks as jibes and unquestionably mild expressions as mockery. Sirius encouraged him to abandon the plan and, despite Peter’s staunch confidence, James was often tempted. But Remus reminded him that these habits were years in the making, and not to be overcome in a fortnight. And then James would see Evans laughing with her friends or arguing a point of theory with a professor, and he knew he had to keep trying. 

Then came his father’s death. He spent so much time reassuring professors and classmates that he was all right that he’d nearly believed it himself. In reality, though, he’d spent the better part of a month in a haze. It was several weeks before James noticed that the basic courtesy Evans was attempting to extend, coupled with his own disinterest in extraneous social engagement, had resulted in the single longest period of unbroken civility the two of them had ever enjoyed. No one would mistake their brief, stilted interactions for genuine amiability, but at least they were no longer engaged in regular acts of verbal aggression. It was, James felt, a start. 

One of the hardest aspects of the new policy was allowing opportunities to engage with Evans slip by, knowing that she wouldn’t pursue them. He’d always had to irritate her into noticing him, and without the motivating power of aggravation, Evans had little reason to speak to him. He didn’t miss the conflict, but it was the only form of interaction they’d ever had. For the first time all year, James found himself looking forward to their monthly Prefect meeting. At least it would be another chance to speak with her, if only a little one. 

James primarily took a back seat at Prefect meetings; due to his “immaturity” and “irresponsibility,” Evans was unwilling to delegate many responsibilities to him. As a result, he rarely had anything of substance to contribute – though this didn’t stop him from offering input, primarily with the goal of ribbing Evans. All that was supposed to be behind him, though, and because of his father’s death he’d had even less to do this month than usual. James had deemed it best to stay silent. 

With his usual entertainment forbidden to him, James found his attention wandering. He was far less interested in the details of the new schedule for rounds than he was in studying the rise and fall of Evans’ voice, the way she punctuated her speech with hand gestures as she responded to a question. It occurred to him that he had very little first hand experience of what Evans was like when she was not upset or annoyed. 

“James will back me up,” a voice said, breaking into his thoughts. “Right, James? Quidditch should take priority over rounds!” 

James looked at the speaker. It was Drew Bennet, the Hufflepuff Chaser. He hadn’t been attending to the conversation, but it wasn’t hard to guess the issue; every time a new schedule came out someone invariably needed an exception made for their own commitments. 

“I did my best to create the schedule around your availability,” Evans replied, in a tone James recognized as polite-but-annoyed, a regular at Prefect meetings. “If you’ve added additional practices since then, there’s nothing I can do.”

“C’mon, James?”

James’ first instinct was to agree with Drew; after all, nothing was more important than Quidditch. As he opened his mouth to comment, though, he caught a glance of Moony’s expression. Mature, he reminded himself. Try to work with her, not against her.

“Evans made the schedule,” he told Drew, glancing sidewise in time to catch her startled expression before she hid it. “It’s a complicated process, and I’m sure she took everyone’s conflicts into account. I’m not going to ask her to change it, and she certainly doesn’t need to justify her decisions to you.”

Drew sighed, but subsided. James thought Evans looked relieved. 

James was suddenly struck by how wrong this all was. He had never really considered the extent to which the other students followed his lead. Even before he was Quidditch Captain or Head boy, he’d always been assertive. It was something that came naturally to him, and something that he took for granted. It seemed unfair that Evans – the one who’d made the schedule, after all – required his support to enforce her decision. He wondered uncomfortably how much of her authority he’d helped to erode with his compulsive desire to dispute every little thing she suggested. 

He didn’t suppose Evans was interested in an apology at this point – not that he could blame her. And he was trying not to foist himself on her at every opportunity. But if he didn’t speak with her, how would she ever know he was trying to change? Maybe there was something he could say, to nudge things along in the right direction. To indicate that he actually wanted to work together. 

No time like the present, he thought as the meeting broke up, and he signaled Remus to head back to the tower without him. 

“Evans, can I have a word?” James found the glance she gave him impossible to read. He’d tried to make his tone pleasantly neutral, neither confrontational nor cocky, but he wasn’t sure if he’d succeeded. “Head business only, I promise.”

“Go on, then,” she said. Her tone, though not outright angry, seemed a bit chilly. Did she know he hadn’t been listening during the meeting? Was she annoyed that she did all the work but needed his help to enforce it? Maybe he was just reading too much into it.

“I think we need some rules of collaboration if we’re going to be able to work together this year,” James said, wondering if she’d catch the reference to their conversation on the first day of school. 

“I – what?”

“First rule,” he began. “I think we should meet before Prefect meetings to go over the agenda, so we can be on the same page and all. I don’t want to be undermining you in front of the others. Got to present a united front to the troops.”

Evans looked like she wasn’t quite sure what was happening. 

“Second rule, we need to divide the work more fairly so you don’t have the full burden of being Head. Dumbledore made us partners, and I’ve got to start pulling my weight. You’re more organized, and have a much better sense of what needs to be done, so I can take orders from you. You’ll have to occasionally trust me to do something, and I have to stand by what I say I’ll do.” 

“That seems reasonable,” Evans said slowly, obviously skeptical.

“Third rule,” he said, looking directly into her eyes. “You have to stop asking me out all the time. It’s honestly an embarrassment to both of us, and I can’t possibly be expected to work with you if every other sentence out of your mouth is a come-on. If I’ve said I’m not interested, I’m not interested. It’s over. Is that clear?”

“Absolutely,” she said, in a tone that suggested it was anything but. 

James decided this was as much as he had any right to hope for. Better to quit while he was – well, if not ahead, at least he wasn’t behind. Or rather, he thought ruefully, he didn’t think he was. 

“Think it over and let me know,” he told her. “See you around, Evans.”

“See you,” she repeated, obviously still confused. James could feel the weight of her gaze following him all the way down the hall. 

 

The Rules of Collaboration proved a great success in bridging the months of antagonism that had passed and the months of cooperation that were to come. Perhaps equally significantly, they were a start of an important family tradition. Over the years the Rules were boiled down to their essentials. The version that Remus made as a wedding present stated the Rules of Collaboration to be: 1) Never forget that we’re always a team. 2) Share the work evenly and fairly (that is, as Lily determines to be best). 3) Always respect (and love!) each other. It hung in Lily and James’ home for years.

 

* * *

 

“Look just there!” Lily followed James’ nod towards a young girl of perhaps six or seven. “Tell me she does not look like a young McGonagall. I bet you a galleon if we looked up old pictures of young Minnie, she’d look just like that girl!”

“James, you’re crazy,” Lily laughed, shaking her head. “And that last boy looked _nothing_ like Professor Slughorn. I honestly think you’re pointing to children at random.”

“How can you say that?” James asked indignantly. “That child was the very image of Horace Slughorn! Surely even you could see it in his chin!”

It was the Christmas Holiday, and the two had agreed to meet up to discuss their duties for the coming term. It had been James’ idea that they could get more done in a single, in-person session than if they spent the entire holiday owling back and forth. Lily, though initially inclined to refuse, had to concede that he did have a point.

Perhaps James had thought he’d be pushing his luck to ask her to meet him in Hogsmeade, so he’d named Florean Fortescue’s, the ice cream parlor in Diagon Alley. Lily’s attempts to scornfully rebuff late-December ice cream plans were thwarted by his assurances that Fortescue’s made the best hot chocolate in London – and thus, presumably, the world. Lily, never one to miss out on a superior chocolate experience, had reluctantly agreed. 

And so an afternoon not quite two weeks into the holiday found the two Head students seated in a booth at Florence Fortescue’s, sipping hot chocolate and chatting in a decidedly friendly manner. Their work had been accomplished surprisingly quickly (it was amazing, Lily thought, how productive they could be when they weren’t fighting constantly), and the conversation had primarily devolved into James making up ridiculous stories about the passers-by, while Lily attempted to hide her amusement. 

Lily still couldn’t quite believe that she and James Potter had reached a level of civility – she wasn’t ready to say friendship – that made it possible to sit in a shop on Diagon Alley and plan the coming term, let alone hang around afterward and talk. She wasn’t exactly sure when it had happened. In the weeks following his father’s death, Lily had made a concerted effort to be polite to him, something that she hadn’t attempted in years. Potter, for his part, seemed surprisingly subdued – presumably from his father’s death – and was significantly less aggravating than she typically found him to be. To her surprise, they slipped into a reasonably comfortable working relationship with relative ease. 

She hadn’t even noticed that he had begun calling her Lily, until Marlene pointed it out. (Lily, to her frustration, had blushed bright red. It wasn’t that she _cared_ what Potter called her, but having every element of their relationship analyzed – and even the tiniest changes marked, at least by Marlene, with raised eyebrows and suggestive winks – would, she felt, make even the most disinterested and levelheaded person a bit flustered.) At that point Lily self-consciously began calling him James, which she actually found far less strange than it had been to use his surname in a friendly tone. 

“All right, look at that man! You cannot deny that he is the perfect embodiment of a forty-year-old Amos Diggory! Just look at him, Lily!”

Lily glanced out the window and snorted. “That’s because that’s Colin Diggory. Amos’ _father_.” Looking at the expression on James’ face – he obviously couldn’t decide if this information was vindicating or crushing – she burst out laughing. James grinned, sheepishly.

When did I start enjoying spending time with him, instead of merely tolerating it? Lily wondered. We’ve been finished with Head business for nearly an hour, yet here I sit. I almost think we could be _friends_. She took another sip of cocoa, and looked out the window again, smiling slightly to herself. 

Amos Diggery stopped to peer in the window of the apothecary a few doors down, evidently weighing the merits of one of the products on display. As he debated, a familiar dark-haired figured exited the shop, carrying an armful of potions supplies. Lily’s heart gave its usual twist as she recognized Severus. She wondered where he was going, what the supplies were for. I’m better off not knowing, she told herself sternly. I doubt I’d like the answer. 

Severus hadn’t quite stopped trying to see Lily when they were both home. He’d shown up at her house, as he always did, on the second day of break. Lily no longer came to the door to see him. The inevitable fight, bad enough at Hogwarts, where at least her friends understood concepts like “Mudblood” and “Death Eater,” was a million times worse when it occurred within the hearing of her concerned parents or gloating sister.

Watching Severus approach out of the corner of her eyes, Lily noticed the moment when he glanced in the window and saw her and then, a few seconds later, registered who she was with. The tips of his ears went a sudden scarlet, the way they only did when he was upset, and was particularly interested in hiding that fact. She wondered, sadly, if anyone else even knew that about him. She felt a sudden urge to reassure him that she and James weren’t on a date, or anything, they were just meeting to discuss Head business. Not, of course, that it was any of Sev’s business _who_ she dated.

It took another moment for James to notice Severus. “Look who it is!” he said, his tone only slightly antagonistic. “Looks like old Snivel – sorry, Snape – has been doing some shopping himself. I wonder where he’s headed? What are those supplies for?”

“I wish you wouldn’t torment him, James,” she said tiredly, not noticing that his questions were the same she’d been posing to herself moments earlier.

“I don’t, anymore,” he said. 

It was so different from the impassioned objection she’d been expecting – a list of Severus’ flaws, his many wrongdoings toward Lily specifically, and the world more generally - that Lily was thrown.

“What?” 

“I don’t go out of my way to torment him anymore. If he and his lot are torturing a younger student I break it up, and – all right – maybe I do it a bit more forcefully than you would. But I don’t pick on him for no reason or anything the way I used to.” 

Lily stared at him for a moment, unsure what to say. James looked calmly back. It didn’t occur to her to doubt him. Now that she thought of it, it _had_ been months since she’d seen James instigate any kind of scene with Severus. 

“Thank you,” she said, eventually. 

“I didn’t do it for you,” he said, taking another sip of cocoa. Lily raised her eyebrows. 

“Okay,” James admitted, grinning. “I mostly did it for you. But also because you were right. I hate him, Lily – I’m sorry but I do. I hate all of those kids who are so infatuated with the Dark Arts, and he’s no better than the rest of his creepy friends. But if they don’t start something, I won’t. It just brings me down to their level.”

Lily continued to stare at him, as James sipped unconcernedly at his chocolate. She’d say this for the boy, he was the least self-conscious person she knew. Probably went along with his mammoth self-confidence. He seemed happy to let her gape at him for several moments, before he finally raised one eyebrow and said, “Sickle for your thoughts, Evans?”

“That’s…kind of impressive,” she said, finally. 

James put a hand to his heart with mock astonishment. “Did you just say something _nice_ to me? Lily Evans! I never thought I’d live to see the day!”

“Don’t let it go to your head, Potter,” she said tartly. “It doesn’t need any help from me –” 

“It’s already big enough,” he finished with her, grinning. “I know, I know. How about you make sure to criticize me at least one or two extra times, just to balance it out? Here, want me to mess up my hair for you? I know you really hate that one!”

Lily shoved him, laughing. She wondered when James had realized that. She’d never considered him to be particularly perceptive.

“Can I ask you something, though?” James asked, growing serious again. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Sure,” Lily said warily. “You can ask.”

“It’s Snape,” James began, and Lily tensed instinctively. But, instead of the angry tirade she was still expecting, he seemed genuinely interested. “How did you become so close? I realize you used to be friends, and he wasn’t always horrible to you. But I can see how much it still hurts you to be distant with him. I just…wonder,” he finished. 

Definitely more perceptive than he seems, Lily thought to herself. She hadn’t thought anyone would guess that she still cared for Severus, or at least for the boy he’d been. She told her parents they’d just grown apart at school, and they accepted that without question. Even to Mary and Marlene she maintained her “good riddance” façade with ease. None of her friends had understood her friendship with Severus in the first place, and so it had been easy to convince them that she didn’t regret breaking off all contact. And she _didn’t_ regret it; it was the right thing to have done. It still hurt, though. 

She wasn’t sure how she felt about the fact that James had figured this out. She supposed he deserved some kind of answer, though. After all, he was the only person who’d ever asked.

“You know that Severus and I were friends as kids,” she said slowly, wondering how much to say to this new friend at the cost of the old. Not that she and James were friends, mind you. “before Hogwarts. He was … he was the one who told me I had magic, what that meant. I’d never even met another witch or wizard before I came to Hogwarts. He was my only link, my guide. Even when we were here, we would hang out and work on homework, and talk, and he’d explain things the other pure-blood students would already know. He was sweet, and smart and funny, James. I know it’s hard to believe, but he _was._

“He was also a connection to home, I guess. I don’t know if you can understand what it’s like for a Muggle-born to come to Hogwarts. It’s like something out of a storybook, so far away from anything you’ve ever imagined. And it’s _wonderful_ but sometimes I felt a bit lost. Sev was an anchor for me. Especially after my sister…well. It was just nice to have someone who was a part of both worlds.”

She paused. James was quiet, listening without comment. It was easier than she’d expected to say these things to him. It felt right, in a way, to try to share with him what Severus had been like. She didn’t want to be the only one who knew who he’d once been. 

Then, of course, he’d started to change. At first she had made allowances for him, Lily remembered. Severus had grown up in a terrible home; his father was drunk and abusive, his parents always arguing. His wasn’t a home where you stood up for yourself. He’d learned from an early age that some people had power and some didn’t, and if you just went along with it then you wouldn’t be hurt, or attract too much attention. He’d never stood a chance in Slytherin. 

She used to daydream about what would have happened if he’d been sorted into Gryffindor. She didn’t _think_ he was naturally inclined towards the prejudice and hatred of his house. Perhaps if they’d been together, if she could have truly included him among her circle of friends…

But regardless of what might have been, eventually Lily had been forced to admit that the boy she had loved as a child, the person that only she could see in Severus, was well and truly gone. Or at least, she amended, far too diminished to hold on to. 

“Anyways, he began to change,” she told James, bringing herself back to the present, “and the day came when I couldn’t ignore it any more. Well, you were there.”

“I’m sorry,” James said. “For making him say those things.”

It was strange to hear him voice the thought she’d had for years. For a time she _had_ blamed James for being the catalyst that had pushed Severus too far, both through years of teasing and also on the day he’d finally crossed the line. It was certainly true that Severus would never have called her a Mudblood if he hadn’t been humiliated and furious. And maybe their friendship could have lasted a little longer before she’d been forced to end it. But eventually she’d come to realize that she and Sev would have reached that point sooner or later.

“I appreciate that,” she said, seriously. “But you didn’t make Severus; he chose this path for himself. We were always going to break. Perhaps it wouldn’t have happened that day, or week, if it weren’t for you, but a time would have come that I would have had to ask him to choose between me, and them.” She sighed, and shrugged. “He was always going to chose them.”

“His loss, then,” James said quietly, and his eyes were kind. 

 

Years later, among a room full of Order members, a calm-faced Lily concealed her heartbreak as Kingsley Shaklebolt confirmed that Severus Snape was now a known Death Eater. In that room full of her closest friends, only James guessed what the news cost her to hear.

“ ‘He was always going to chose them,’ ” James said later, when they were alone, an echo of a conversation that was three years gone.

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” Lily whispered, and he held her as she cried for the boy she’d loved and the man he’d become. 

 

* * *

 

If things had been different, their single successful interaction at Fortescue’s might have been just that – a one-time anomaly among seven years of antagonism. Certainly neither Lily nor James had any idea at the time that the conversation in Diagon Alley had marked a turning point in their relationship. But the one, genuinely amicable interaction managed to set a precedent as the two began the new term. James’ increased involvement in Head responsibilities offered a natural opportunity for now-cordial interactions, and Lily was startled to realize how much she had begun to enjoy her conversations with James. 

In fact, things were going so well that she wasn’t even sure who’d made the first gesture, and initiated a conversation that wasn’t even perfunctorily about Head business. (James knew, because the day Lily had sat down across from him at breakfast and began speaking – not about Prefect meetings, or rounds, or shared responsibilities, but about the mundane details of her day – was one of the happiest of his life.) 

Suddenly Lily and James were getting along so seamlessly, it was as if they’d been friends for years. At his toast at their wedding, Sirius would compare them to two magnets who’d spent years repelling one another until one of them flipped and then – “whomp,” Sirius would conclude, slamming his hands together. This colorful analogy - the result of too much Firewhisky and a bet with Peter - would be lost on those guests who had neglected to take Muggle Studies in their time at Hogwarts. But though eccentric, it was fairly accurate.

Lily was frequently surprised, in those early days, at how easy it was for her to be friends with James. It wasn’t just relief at the lack of animosity, or gratitude for his increased efforts as Head Boy. As unlikely as it seemed, James Potter had turned out to be someone she genuinely enjoyed. Sometime she wondered whether this side of James was something new, or something she’d simply been unwilling to see. Mostly she tried not to over think it.

For his part, James sometimes felt as if they had flipped a switch, and suddenly he and Lily were closer than he’d ever been with anyone, outside of the Marauders. The sense of easy familiarity still caught him unawares, on occasion, and he worried it might evaporate as suddenly as had it developed. But days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, and it stayed. 

It felt like a miracle. It felt, as Sirius would say, like physics. 

* * *

“But the Aurors _need_ to use Unforgivables in order to fight the Death Eaters on equal footing,” James said, for what was probably the third time that evening. “They can be trusted to use the power responsibly.” 

Lily shook her head. The two were seated on his bed, continuing an argument that had begun on their way back from patrols. Lily had followed James up to the seventh years’ boys room – or, as she always called it, The Den of the Marauders – in order to borrow his notes for a Potions project. Somehow, they had fallen into an argument over the new proposed legislation to allow Aurors the right to use Unforgivable Curses in cases of extreme need. It was the kind of argument they often had, these days: impassioned and involved, utterly incomprehensible to everyone else and incredibly enjoyable. Sometimes it was hard to remember they’d ever had any other sort of argument. 

“That’s just it,” Lily told him. “I don’t think anyone can be trusted with the Unforgivables. That’s why they’re unforgivable, because there isn’t any justifiable reason to use them.”

“Not even self-defense?” James protested, outraged. “When there’s no other option?”

“That is a slippery slope,” she retorted. “If you’re tied down by Voldemort and have thirty seconds to utter a single spell, then, yes, Avada Kedavra is probably a good bet. But give Magical Law Enforcement that kind of power and all of a sudden they’ll be Imperiusing and Cruciatusing suspected Death Eaters left and right. Before you know it people will be afraid to speak out against an Auror for fear their families will suffer. Is that the kind of society you want to live in?”

“MLE is not going to start abusing their power. The Aurors are better than that!” 

“Nobody is inherently better than that, James! You are so naïve, sometimes!” 

“Will you two stop?” Sirius demanded. “You’ve been going back and forth for nearly an hour. Merlin knows why you aren’t tired of it, but _I_ am.”

“But Sirius,” Lily teased, “don’t you care about the moral implications of –” 

“Nope,” he cut her off with an easy grin. “You and Prongs are the only ones batty enough to spend an hour debating it. Moony, Wormtail, back me up here?”

“What?” said Remus, who was always lost to the world when he was reading.

“Sirius is needling Lily and James,” Peter informed him. “I’d stay out of it.” 

“Fine!” James said. “This isn’t over, Lily. We are going to finish this conversation during our rounds tomorrow night, when our _friends_ aren’t around to interrupt.” 

“Can’t,” Lily said, waving his Potions notes at him. “We have to plan our project, remember?”

James made a face. “Fine. Friday, then.”

“Friday is Marlene’s birthday party,” Lily reminded him. “It’s my night off. And as much as I’d rather discuss magical law enforcement and the use of Unforgivables with you, Marlene would never forgive me if I skipped. It’s the one night a year that I let her pick out some ridiculously tiny dress for me to wear, do my hair and makeup, and drag me to some pub in Hogsmeade to get hit on by strangers all night. It’s not _my_ idea of a good time, but then – as Mary always reminds me – it’s not _my_ birthday.”

“Saturday then,” James said, wondering if he could finish his rounds in time to sneak out to Hogsmeade himself. It wasn’t that he wanted to ogle Lily himself; he thought she was beautiful without whatever nonsense Marlene would propose (not to mention brilliant and funny and kind and a million other things). Still, he didn’t like the idea of other jerks seeing her and getting – well, the wrong idea. However, he supposed neither Lily nor Marlene would appreciate it if he showed up and monopolized her for the night. 

Lily gave him an amused look, and James thought, for a moment, that maybe she knew what he was thinking. But that wasn’t it.

“I think you’re busy on Saturday,” she said, pointedly.

“Saturday?”

“Aren’t you?” she asked. James looked at her blankly.

Lily sighed. “Saturday is the full moon,” she told him. “Remember? You need to come up with an awkward excuse so you can skip out of rounds to be with Remus.”

A sudden, profound silence fell over the room. James felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. How had she guessed? Had he been careless? He glanced anxiously at Moony, who was pale.

“How…what…” James said hoarsely, wondering whether he was supposed to deny it. Nobody else spoke. James wondered if they thought he’d _told_ her. He hoped Moony knew better. He might be a fool where Lily Evans was concerned, but a bloke did not betray his mate to impress a girl.Lily wouldn’t have wanted him to, even if he’d been willing.

“Oh please, give me a little credit,” Lily said, smiling slightly. “Remus and I had rounds together for years, you know. It wasn’t very hard to notice that he always had a sick aunt or a vague, mysterious responsibility the night of the full moon. Or that he always came back looking sick and pale. I just never said anything because it was obvious that I wasn’t supposed to know.”

She looked over at Remus, who was staring down at his clasped hands. They wereclenched so tightly that the whites of his knuckles were visible from across the room. 

“Remus,” Lily said gently. He didn’t respond. “Remus,” she repeated. “Please look at me. You can’t think it matters.”

Moony gave an involuntary, choked little laugh, though he didn’t meet her eyes.

“I mean, of course it matters,” she amended ruefully. “I can only imagine how awful it is for you. But I mean that it doesn’t matter to me.”

“That’s … kind … of you to say, Lily,” Moony said, in a pained voice. His tone made it clear that he didn’t believe her, though he appreciated the gesture. James’ heart broke for his friend. Despite many years of the collective efforts of James, Sirius and Peter, Remus still found it impossible to believe that anyone could learn of his lycanthropy without rejecting him. James knew that most of the wizarding world would not be so sympathetic as they had been, of course, but sometime he worried that Remus felt he didn’t _deserve_ friends because of his condition. 

“Did you tell anyone?” Sirius asked Lily sharply. 

James threw his best friend a reproachful glance – surely he knew Lily wouldn’t tell! – but she answered calmly, as if she felt Sirius had a right to ask. “Of course not. If Remus wanted people to know, then people would know.”

Remus took a deep breath. “Thanks, Lily. There aren’t many people who could guess something like that and just…” he trailed off. “I’m afraid that if most people knew, they wouldn’t want much to do with me. I’d understand if you don’t.”

“Don’t be absurd!” Lily said at once, almost angrily. “It doesn’t _matter_. I mean it Remus. I’ve known for ages, anyways.”

“Ages?” 

“Sometime early in sixth year. More than a year ago. So you see, it’s too late to worry that this will change things, or that I’ll be afraid of you, or that later it will dawn on me that I’m better off avoiding you all together. I’ve known for over a year that you’re a werewolf–” Remus flinched, but Lily didn’t back down. “No, listen carefully, Remus, because I’m only going to say this once. I’ve known for over a year that you’re a werewolf, and I _don’t care_.”

Lily held Remus’ eyes for a moment. “I promise that’s not going to change. That’s my side of the bargain,” she said softly. “Your side is that you have to believe me. Do you think you can do that?”

James thought he had never loved her so much.

Finally Remus laughed, and it was only a little forced. “I don’t see how I can doubt you, Lily. ‘Thank you’ seems…inadequate. I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve such friends.”

“Well, if you hadn’t whipped James into shape for me, I’m sure we’d still be incapable of having a civil conversation,” Lily laughed, a deliberate attempt to lighten the mood. “So that was really a service to the entire school.”

“I dunno,” Remus said. “I think some of them rather miss your rows.”

“Well _I_ don’t,” James and Lily said in unison, and grinned at each other. 

Lily stood and hugged Remus. “I’ll leave you lads to whatever mischief is on the schedule for the evening.” She squeezed James’ shoulder as she stopped to pick up his Potions notes, and he smiled up at her, knowing she would be able to read the gratitude in his eyes. She smiled back, and left.

“You okay, Moony?” That was Peter, who had remained quiet throughout the entire tense conversation. Complicated interpersonal dynamics weren’t Pete’s forte, but his heart was in the right place. “Give the man some chocolate, Prongs.”

James fished under his bed for the Marauders’ Bag of Loot, a pillowcase christened by Sirius in their second year, when they had first discovered the secret passage to Honeyduke’s, and sworn they would never be without chocolate again. He grabbed a slab of chocolate and tossed it across the room to Remus. He ignored Sirius’ puppy eyes; Padfoot had an incurable sweet tooth and literally no self-control, and he’d been placed on a strict one-treat-per-evening regiment, which he inevitably attempted to flout.

“Thanks,” Remus said, snapping off a piece. “I’m okay, I think. Lily is quite a girl.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “She’s a keeper, Prongs.”

“Thanks man,” James said, amused. “You do realize that she still hasn’t agreed to go out with me, right?”

“She will, though,” said Peter, who firmly believed that James could do anything. 

 

When James went down to the common room a few hours later he found Lily alone by the dying fire, pouring over his Potions notes.

“Thought I might find you here,” he said.

“James!” said Lily, startled; she obviously hadn’t heard him come into the room. “How’s Remus doing?” She gathered the scattered notes, making room for him beside her on the couch.

“He’s okay,” James said, sitting down. “Worlds better than the day we told him we’d guessed. Merlin, what a mess _that_ was.” 

“I didn’t mean to make a scene,” Lily said ruefully. “I didn’t intend to bring it up at all, in fact. It just seemed silly to dance around something we all knew.”

“It’s good for him to know there are people – other people, besides us – who can know his secret without rejecting him.”

James was momentarily distracted from the conversation by the play of the firelight on her hair. He folded his hands carefully in his lap, so he wouldn’t do something so foolish as reach out and tuck a wayward strand of hair back behind her ear. Lily was genuinely fond of him, James knew, and the friendship that had sprung up between them was a surprise and pleasure to them both. He had no intention of spoiling it by reverting to his old ways of arrogant toe-raggery. Even if their friendship never turned into anything more – and, despite Peter’s confidence, James was not so sure; Lily, of all the girls he’d ever known, was pretty good at knowing her own mind – he would never regret that he’d finally gotten the chance to know her better. 

Of course, that chance had only served to make him blindingly certain that Lily was the only girl for him. James knew, of course, that it was nonsense to talk about “the one,” as if Lily was his soul mate; the idea that there could be one person who could ever make him happy, let alone that he’d found her at fourteen, was – as Sirius had told him repeatedly over the years – frankly absurd. And yet, when he saw her smile, heard her laugh, argued with her over the morality of Unforgivables, watched her kindness to his friend – James doubted he could ever find another girl who made him feel the way Lily did.

“Who else knows?” Lily asked, bringing him back to the present. 

“Dumbeldore knows,” he told her. “Madam Pomfrey, his parents. Me and Sirius and Peter.” And Severus Snape, he added silently, but though it was the reason he’d come down, he didn’t know how to broach the topic.

“Poor Remus,” Lily said, eyes full of pity. “I’d never realized he was so alone. I almost wish I’d said something sooner, once I figured it out.”

“How did you?” he asked “I know you’re smart, but something must have tipped you off.”

A look of surprise, and then guilt, flashed across Lily’s face, confirming his suspicions. “It was Severus,” she said finally. 

Not for the first time, James cursed the impulsive, reckless cruelty that had led Sirius to betray Moony’s secret. James had never been so mad at anyone as he’d been that night. He remembered standing in Dumbledore’s office, shouting at his best friend while the Headmaster sat gravely silent – knowing, perhaps, that James’ fury had a power to reach Sirius more effectively than any punishment. He was still surprised Sirius hadn’t been expelled, but he suspected Dumbledore had been trying to protect Remus. 

Remus, never one to hold a grudge, and more than a little inclined to blame himself, had forgiven Sirius, and in time so had James. And if any of them shared his fear that Snivillus – whose antagonism towards James had only increased once he owed him his life – could not be trusted to keep the secret, they never spoken of it.

“Snape told you,” James said. It wasn’t really a question. He wondered dully who else he’d told.

“Told me?” Lily repeated, as if she found the wording odd. “He had theories, if that’s what you mean. He was always rather obsessed with you all, perhaps more than you realize. Sometime in fifth year he became fixated on Remus’ frequent illnesses and absences. I didn’t think whatever war he had with you and Sirius should include prying into Remus’ personal life in search of some cheap leverage, so I didn’t listen when he proposed lycanthropy as an explanation.” 

“And then?”

Lily shrugged. “And then we stopped talking. Remus and I were spending more time together by then, because of prefect duties, and at that point it really was too obvious for me to miss it. Honestly, I’m surprised nobody else ever noticed.”

“He never told you,” said James, astonished.

“Never told me what?” 

“That he wasn’t just guessing. Snape knew.”

“How on earth …”

“Sirius got sick of Snape always nosing about, trying to discover Moony’s secret and he just – snapped one day, I guess. He told him to go down to the Whoomping Willow and see for himself.”

“The Whomping Willow?” Lily repeated slowly, as it had some significance she couldn’t quite place. 

“Where he goes for his transformations. If you touch a knot, it stills the tree, and there’s a tunnel to the shrieking shack.”

“And Sirius told Severus to go _see for himself?_ Remus could have bitten him!” James worried, belatedly, that the story might serve to permanently alienate Lily from his best friend. It had taken some effort on James’ part to extend the tenuous goodwill he’d earned to encompass Sirius as well. Remus she already knew, and everyone was fond of Peter, but Lily had always seen Sirius and James in the same negative light. But to James’ relief, Sirius’ natural charm and genuinely good heart had, miraculously, outweighed his undeniable immaturity. He only hoped he wasn’t about to ruin all of that.

“It’s unlikely Snape would have survived for it to matter whether or not he’d been bitten,” he admitted in a low voice.

“How in Merlin’s name did he?”

“Oh well,” James said sheepishly. “I, uh, saved him.”

“You _saved_ him?” James had never seen Lily so repeatedly astonished as she had been in the last few minutes. Perhaps he would have enjoyed it more if it hadn’t meant reliving what was, without a doubt, the single worst night of his life. 

“It sounds more heroic than it was,” he said, wondering if she thought he was bragging. “I didn’t do anything clever or daring, there wasn’t time for that. I just ran after Snape and literally dragged him away. I don’t like to think about how close a call it was. I didn’t speak to Sirius for weeks.”

For a while he’d thought it would be the end of the Marauders. James had been too furious to be around Sirius, Sirius too ashamed to speak to Remus, and Remus too horrified by what he’d nearly done to meet anyone’s eyes. It had been Peter’s quiet, stubborn persistence that had held the fraying threads of their group together, until time and adolescent elasticity had worked its magic. 

Lily didn’t say anything, just reached out and took his hand. It took James a moment to recognize the expression on her face as admiration. He’d seen flashes of before, in Transfiguration when he demonstrated a particularly advanced spell, in Prefect meetings when he tactfully handled a nasty comment from the Slytherins without hexing them all to next year. It was always an ephemeral thing, though, quickly suppressed or supplanted. 

“I can’t believe Snape didn’t tell you,” James said at last, feeling he ought to say something. “To have that kind of dirt on Remus and keep it to himself…”

“He probably didn’t want me to know you’d saved his life,” Lily looked annoyed. “I heard rumors, of course, that you’d gotten him out of some kind of trouble, but he always refused to talk about it. But he shouldn’t have been dropping hints about Remus, even to me! That could ruin his life if it got out.”

“I doubt Snape cares about that. Do you think he’ll have told anyone else?”

“No,” Lily said definitively. 

“Why not?”

“I’d imagine that Dumbeldore threatened him with expulsion if the word got out,” Lily said. “And I’m the only one he’d have risked that for, even with hints. He must have wanted me to know quite badly, and he knew I could keep a secret if I needed to.”

“You’ve certainly proven that tonight,” he agreed. He thought of the other things she didn’t know yet: that he was an Animagus, the Marauder’s Map, the invisibility cloak. Lily deserved to know those things as well. 

Just then Lily’s face split in the widest yawn he’d ever seen. He smiled at her. “Tired?”

She stretched, and nodded. “I think I’d better turn in. These Potions notes can wait until tomorrow.” 

James supposed the rest of his secrets could wait as well. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

Lily squeezed his hand and stood up. “Night, James.”

“Night Lils,” he responded, watching as she ambled sleepily towards the door. He could hear her footsteps fading as she climbed the stairs to the girls’ tower.

“ _I love you_ ,” he whispered to the fire.

 

* * *

 

Lily knew her roommates were talking about her from the abrupt silence that fell the moment she entered their room. Both girls turned towards her, identical guilty expressions on their faces. 

Marlene was the quicker of the two to recover. “How did your date go?’ she asked enthusiastically, jumping up and dragging Lily over to the bed where she and Mary were perched. “We want to hear _everything_.”

“Uh - ” Lily began, distracted from her snide comment about her friends having the collective subtlety of a troll. 

“Your date,” Marlene pestered her, excitedly. “With Andrew, the Ravenclaw. Tall bloke, blond hair. Very smart, very handsome. This ringing any bells for you?”

“Yeah,” Lily said, shrugging. “It was okay, I guess.” 

Marlene narrowed her eyes. “Okay?”

Mary laughed. “While I am not the dating expert that Marlene is, it seems to me that ‘okay, I guess,’ is perhaps not what one hopes for on a first date.” Mary had shown little interest in dating or boys before she began dating Kingsley Shaklebolt. He had been a seventh year and she a sixth when he asked her out, and their relationship had continued even after he’d graduated and gone on to the intensive training required of initial Auror recruits. The two had just celebrated their one-year anniversary – quietly, as they had done everything else in the relationship. Marlene might have more experience with dating, Lily thought, but Mary certainly knew more about relationships.

“No, I mean, it was good!” Lily amended hastily. “He’s very interesting, and we had a ton to talk about. He just wasn’t very much…fun?”

“Fun is important,” Marlene agreed. “First dates should be fun, they shouldn’t be forced.”

“It wasn’t forced, exactly.” Lily paused, searching for the right words to describe the evening. It wasn’t a Hogsmeade weekend, so she and Andrew had simply taken a long walk around the lake together. He shared her love of charms, and they’d had an interesting conversation about the theory behind some of the complex charms Flitwick was teaching them for NEWTs. It certainly wasn’t a conversation that any of her other friends would have wanted to have, and she had enjoyed it. The evening had been…pleasant. No more, no less. 

“I think I talked about James too much,” she said eventually, surprising herself. Mary and Marlene exchanged a significant glance.

“What do you mean?” Mary asked, carefully neutral.

“I dunno,” she said. “I didn’t think so, but Andrew said…I mean, he asked if James and I were an item.”

Another glance.

“What did you tell him?” Marlene asked, not quite managing to hide her amusement.

“I said no, of course!” Lily said. It was an absurd question. She and James _weren’t_ an item, they were just friends. Of course the whole school knew about their history; James had always been very public about his feelings about her. But it should be obvious to even a casual observer that those days were long gone. 

“Well, why do you think he asked?” Mary wanted to know.

“I don’t know! I guess I do talk about James a lot – I mean, he’s one of my best friends! So he comes up naturally in conversation in a lot of my stories.” 

But it was more than that, she knew. Marlene and Mary were in a lot of her stories, too – so were Sirius, Remus, and Peter, these days. But James seemed to pervade her life in a way that the others, even Mary, never did. Any topic that Andrew raised, Lily had already discussed it with James, and she naturally moved to share his thoughts as well as her own. When Andrew made a point that Lily hadn’t considered, she instinctively considered what James would say. And when Andrew had proposed a second date on Saturday night, Lily had readily agreed – to rearrange her plans with James.

“Do you guys think that James and I…act like a couple?” she asked her friends.

“Yes,” said Marlene immediately.

Mary shot her a quelling look. “What do you think, Lils?”

“No. Yes? I don’t know!” Lily flopped down on her bed. “We _do_ spend a lot of time together, just the two of us. And I guess it’s not just that. I think I sometimes orient myself around him without even realizing it. I know his schedule and needs and preferences as well as my own – and he knows mine. I always grab him dinner from the Great Hall when I know he’s got Quidditch practice, and he keeps a stash of my favorite quills in his room, in case I need one when I’m there.”

“That’s so cute,” Marlene laughed. “You are a bit batty about those quills.”

“They’re _significantly_ better than the standard issue quill,” Lily shot back. “James thought I was batty too, but it turned out I could tell the difference between them even with a blindfold on. I had to repeat it three times to satisfy him I wasn’t cheating, but he _finally_ admitted -” She stopped. “It’s stuff like that, isn’t it?”

Marlene rolled her eyes and nodded. “Exactly. It’s not just the story, either. It’s the way you tell it.”

“What, like he’s an annoying twat?”

Mary smiled, gently. “You light up when you talk about him, Lily. You just don’t look that way when you’re talking about anyone else. That’s what Andrew was picking up on.”

“Well what am I supposed to do with _that_?” Lily wailed. “I can’t help how I look! I can barely keep up with how I feel!”

She knew the words had been a mistake as soon as they’d been uttered. Marlene was sure to take them as a declaration of love, though they’d only been meant as a declaration of confusion. Sure enough…

“I knew it!” Marlene shrieked. “You _do_ like him! Admit it!”

“Lay off her, Marlene,” Mary said sternly. “She doesn’t know how she feels.”

“Don’t be such a wet blanket, Mary!” Marlene replied. “Of course she knows! James is great. And _so_ handsome. And the story is _too_ cute – all those years when he was pining after you, and you wouldn’t even give him the time of day...C’mon, Lily, you must see the poetic justice in the story.” 

“A bit, I guess. But poetic justice isn’t exactly sufficient foundation for a relationship.” She sighed, and rolled onto her back. “I don’t even know if James likes me like that any more,” she said to the ceiling.

“Of course he does!” Marlene laughed. “Lily, of course he does.”

“How do you know that?”

“It’s obvious.”

“Obvious how?”

“In the way he looks at you.”

“How does he look at me?”

It was Mary who answered. “Like nobody else is even in the room. Like you’re the only one in the world. ”

Lily sat up and stared at her. “He looks at me like that? Really?”

“Lily, James’ feelings for you haven’t changed in four years. The question is, have yours?” 

“I don’t _know_ ,” she said, feeling stupid. “Maybe if I could just –” She stopped, frustrated, and stood. “I have to go.”

“Go where?”

“Somewhere. Anywhere. I just need some air, or something.” 

Maybe if she could get a minute to herself, Lily thought, she could sort out some of the confusion she was feeling. Marlene’s gleeful certainty and Mary’s quiet insight were only making matters worse. As she descended the stairs towards the common room, though, Lily only felt more confused. She hoped the fresh air would help. 

Of course, when she entered the room her eyes went immediately to James, who was sitting on his favorite couch in front of the fireplace. Without actually realizing she’d made the decision, she found herself walking over and sitting down next to him.

“Um, hi.”

James looked up from his book and smiled. “Hey Lils, how’s it going?”

She shrugged. “All right.”

“Hey, I almost forgot!” James poked her. “How was your date?”

“It was fine. Nice.”

“Do I detect a lack of enthusiasm?” he asked sympathetically.

“We had a great conversation,” she said, “but –”

“No sparks?”

“No sparks.” Lily examined his expression for an indication of deeper feelings. _Was_ there a flicker of relief? Or was she just imagining she saw it because she wanted to? And when had she decided she wanted to?

“Andrew did have some fascinating thoughts on the advanced charms Flitwick’s been teaching for NEWTs,” she said, grabbing at random for a topic. “He thinks the theoretical foundation –”

“Ugh,” James groaned, covering his ears. “No Charms theory, I beg of you!”

Lily laughed. “See, this is why I could never date you! How can I be with someone who doesn’t care about Charms theory?”

She regretted the words the moment they were out of her, but James hardly seemed to notice. “A failing indeed,” he agreed. “Though I fear your choices will be quite limited. There are so few people who care about Charms theory these days; if you don’t want Andrew, you may well be stuck with Professor Flitwick. But, not to worry, I’m sure he’s - ” 

Lily shrieked in horror, and lunged forward and clapped her hand over his mouth. “I do _not_ need to hear the end of that sentence,” she told him severely. James held his hands up in surrender, and she quickly lowered her hand. Her palm was tingling. 

“Don’t worry,” James told her, serious again. “There’s someone out there for you.”

“Do you think so?” 

“I know so.”

“Me too,” she breathed and kissed him.

James sat entirely still for a moment, as if he couldn’t quite remember how to respond. But then he leaned in, deepening the kiss, one of his hands coming up to rest lightly in her hair. Her own hands, which had started awkwardly clenched in her lap, moved – seemingly of their own accord – until they were gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. 

It was a good kiss.

After a time, James pulled back, though she could tell it was reluctantly. She was startled to notice what sounded like applause. To her embarrassment, she realized the Gryffindor common room was not remotely deserted, as she had somehow assumed. It was full of its usual assortment of their classmates, all of whom appeared to be offering them a standing ovation.

“I didn’t even see them,” she whispered, vaguely aware that she ought to be embarrassed, but still too focused on James to care. 

James brushed his thumb along her cheek. “I know the feeling,” he replied.

 

* * *

 

Lily had had been certain that, for their first official date, James would want to take her to Hogsmeade. When she’d realized that the weekend after their first kiss was a Hogsmeade weekend, it had seemed like an obvious move. Even she had to admit it had a kind of poetic justice, as Marlene was so fond of saying. Instead, he had suggested they stay back at the castle while the rest of the student body headed off to Hogsmeade. With Hogwarts deserted save for the youngest students, the two Head students had a rare measure of privacy. 

“I thought,” James explained with unusual hesitancy, “so much of our relationship has belonged to the whole school. I wanted us – this – whatever we’re doing – to be just for us. At least for today. What do you think?”

“I think that’s incredibly sweet of you,” Lily replied. “Unexpectedly sweet, in fact. I’m game for whatever you have planned for this afternoon.” 

She regretted her words immediately. A delighted, mischievous grin spread over James’ face as he grabbed her hand and began towing her through the portrait hole and into the hallway. She shook her head at her own folly. It was _never_ a wise idea to give a Marauder free reign over any kind of plans, she knew that. It was a principle she had practiced strictly throughout her months of friendship with James. But there was something about the intensity of his gaze and the feeling of his hand on hers that Lily found infinitely more distracting, as of late, than she ever had before, and sometimes it was hard to remember to stay vigilant against James and his foolishness. 

To Lily’s relief, James didn’t seem interested in robbing Gringotts, or sneaking into the Ministry disguised as someone else, or anything of that nature. All he wanted to do was walk around Hogwarts. Lily was somewhat skeptical of merits of this plan, but James assured her she would enjoy it. 

She needn’t have worried; James knew what he was doing. She’d often thought that James and the other Marauders likely knew Hogwarts better than any of the other students – and probably half of the staff. It seemed she had been right. She was surprised to find just how much enjoyed the fun of sneaking through secret passageways and into hidden rooms with James. She was still laughing as the two made their way back to the common room, gradually returning to hallways she recognized. 

“That was amazing! I’d never realized how much of the castle I’ve never seen.”

James laughed, and put an arm around her shoulder. “We can do it again any time you want to.” Lily, looking up at his smiling face, felt her heart ache. 

James noticed it at once. “What’s the matter Lils, don’t you want to go out again?”

“Of course I do, you oaf! It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

“This was the best date I’ve ever been on, James. And I don’t doubt for a moment the next one will be just as wonderful. But I’m not…”

“Not what, Lily?”

“I’m not in love with you, James,” she blurted, wincing at the bluntness of the words as she heard them come out. Perhaps she should have led up to it a bit, or waited to say something, but she didn’t want to lead him on. She knew how he felt about her, and though it had been easy enough to ignore when she’d made it perfectly clear that their relationship was entirely platonic, she was afraid of the imbalance it might make if they got involved. She felt that she _ought_ to be in love with James – she had already loved him, as a friend, before her other feelings for him had developed. Shouldn’t she be _in_ love with him now?

To her surprise, he laughed. “Of course you’re not! I didn’t think that you were. You think I’m a wonderful friend, and you love being around me. You think I’m funny and smart and interesting to talk to. And of course, I’m devilishly handsome,” he wiggled his eyebrows and she elbowed him in the chest. “And you even, I dare hope, enjoy kissing me.” Lily smiled. “But those things don’t mean that you love me. And I know that.”

“But…”

“Lily, the fact that I knew I wanted to marry you at the age of fourteen is not only incredibly improbable, it’s entirely irrelevant right now. I don’t expect you to feel the same way. Today we went on our first date. I’m more than happy to settle for ‘the best date you’ve ever been on.’ We’ll worry about the rest in its time.”

“But what if I don’t…I’m not saying I _won’t_ , but…I can’t promise I will.”

“Neither can I,” James told her solemnly. “Haven’t you even considered the possibility that dating you might make my feelings for you change?”

Lily cocked her head and looked at him. It was something she used to say, back when James was still her sworn enemy and his professed love for her both ridiculous and insulting. She used to tell Mary that James was only interested in her because she wasn’t interested, that it was a point of male pride and love of the chase, and if she ever so much as looked at him he’d immediately change his mind. (Mary, ever practical, had suggested that might be an easy way to get rid of him, but Lily was constitutionally incapable of such duplicity, especially _that_ sort.) 

James was older now, more mature, and she knew his affection for her was grounded in friendship rather than a teenage infatuation with the unobtainable. But she also knew relationships were far more complicated than she had imagined when she was fourteen, back when she had believed mutual interest and attraction were sufficient. It was, indeed, entirely possible that the reality of dating her simply wouldn’t work out the way James had imagined.

“Do you think it will?” she asked him. 

“No,” James sighed, looking at her in a way that could only be termed adoring. “The more time I spend with you, the more time I _want_ to spend with you.”

Lily laughed. “James! You’re supposed to be making me feel better about the fact that you are massively in love with me!”

“Right, sorry!” he grinned. “Would you like a litany of your numerous flaws? Having spent a great deal of time with you in rather close proximity –” he grinned widely and Lily laughed again – “I am singularly well equipped to inform you of them. I’m only too happy to oblige you by reciting them.”

“James Potter, such a gentleman,” she sighed, fanning herself. “Please do tell me all about my flaws.”

“Well, my dear,” James said, drawing her arm snuggly through his, “I am sorry to inform you that you sometimes snort when you laugh.”

“I do not!”

“You absolutely do. It’s not very loud and it’s not very often, but I have on more than one occasion witnessed an unmistakable snort.”

“I think you’re making that up.”

“Your mistrust of my widely recognized honesty is another tragic shortcoming.” 

Lily snorted, then froze, horrified. James burst out laughing.

“There! You see, I have now been established as a credible source. So you will believe me when I tell you that you also have a very irritating habit of tapping your fingers while you study, which is incredibly distracting to everyone around you.”

“Do I?” Lily said, amused. “I hadn’t any idea – nobody’s ever mentioned it.” She had never studied for any great period of time with anyone other than James. She and Mary and Marlene had long since realized their study habits were fundamentally incompatible. Marlene liked to study in the middle of as much noise and action as possible, claiming the sensory stimulation made it easier to think. She usually worked in the common room late at night. Mary, in contrast, required the utter silence of the library, the somber atmosphere of which Lily found oppressive. 

Before she’d become friends with James, Lily would have predicted that all four Marauders – minus Remus, perhaps – preferred to study in the loudest, most zoo-like conditions possible. But James, like Lily, found it hard to study with his friends, and the two could be found most evenings in various quiet locations around the castle. James had a much more thorough understanding of the castle’s less frequented rooms and corners, and at least once a week discovered a new location he wanted to share. 

James, apparently, was not finished with his list of her deficiencies. In fact, he seemed to be warming to his theme. “You show distressingly little interest in professional Quidditch,” he continued, “although it has been scientifically documented to be The Most Important Thing Ever.”

Lily hadn’t shown _any_ interest in professional Quidditch before she’d known James; the sport held little interest for her outside of school matches. Growing up she’d generally avoided Muggle sports, although the addition of broomsticks and autonomous balls was enough to make Quidditch more engaging that football or cricket. But what she liked most about Hogwarts matches was watching her friends fly – watching James, fly, really. Even when she’d despised him, it was impossible to deny his ease and skill on the pitch. She still remembered the first match of sixth year, in which Ravenclaw had captured the snitch but nonetheless lost narrowly to Gryffindor, thanks to an incredible, last-minute goal by James. Lily had turned to her friends and said, “Potter may be an insufferable prick, but _damn_ that boy can fly.” They claimed it was the nicest thing she’d ever said about him. 

As for professional Quidditch – well, Lily honestly didn’t quite see the point of it all when James wasn’t flying, although she wasn’t about to put it that way to him! She’d developed a passing knowledge of the major international teams under James’ eager tutelage, and could probably even recognize all of England’s players at this point. But she was never going to be the die-hard fan that he was.

“A failing indeed,” Lily said, shaking her head sadly. “It’s a wonder anyone is willing to speak with me.”

James peered at her suspiciously. “I hope you are not mocking me, Miss Evans,” he said severely. “I take these matters very seriously.”

“I never joke about Quidditch,” Lily informed him somberly, if untruthfully. “Pray continue.”

“Very well.” He paused for a moment, considering. “Ah! Here’s one: You always finish your Arithmancy homework several nights in advance, which would be bad enough, because honestly, who is that organized? But in spite of this you invariably end up, two hours before an assignment is due, frantically checking your answers, certain you’ve made some horrendous mistake.”

“Arithmancy is hard!” Lily objected. “You’d understand if you’d ever taken it, instead of taking Divinations just because ‘Sirius wanted to, and I thought it’d be a laugh.’”

“He did, and I did,” James said placidly. “And it was.”

It was, Lily reflected privately. She had loved the challenge that Arithmancy had posed, but she’d often been grateful for the comic relief provided by the dire predictions the boys made concerning everyone’s short and inevitably unhappy fates. Sometimes, when her own work became too overwhelming, James would comfort Lily by informing her that her tea leaves clearly indicated she would not make it to morning, and thus her accuracy on her homework would obviously be of little significance. 

“More to the point,” James added, “you never find mistakes in your Arithmancy work! So why you insist on anxiously checking your work at the last minute, I will never know.”

“There is a method to my madness,” Lily informed him haughtily.

“Is there?”

“Yes! When an assignment is about to be handed in, I get anxious I did it wrong. So I check it to make sure.”

James shook his head. “Definitely not normal.”

“Fine, I’m weird about Arithmancy. Anything else?”

“I’m just getting started,” James assured her. “Your sense of direction is terrible. How you manage to get lost in a castle that we have lived in for seven years is beyond me, and yet you manage to do so on a regular basis.”

Lily had to agree that this, at least, was entirely accurate. Her sense of direction _was_ terrible, and there had been numerous times this year that she had somehow managed to get lost (although, in her defense, the stairs in the castle _moved_ , which really made things worse!), and would quite possibly have spent several hours if James hadn’t somehow found her and–

Abandoning her train of thought abruptly, Lily stared at James suspiciously. “Are you doing this on purpose?”

“Rubbing your nose in your weaknesses? Well, yes, Lily, but you did ask me to. Although I have to admit I am rather enjoying it.” The grin James gave her was positively evil.

Lily didn’t respond, her mind full of memories of James. Making her laugh, helping her to study when she needed it and distracting her with his ridiculous escapades when she didn’t. Somehow always knowing where to find her when she was hopelessly lost in the entirely wrong end of the castle. Stocking up on her favorite quill even though he _still_ couldn’t tell any difference. Always ready with a smile or a wink or a joke or a hug at just the right moment. His was the opinion she always sought first, and valued the most. He was her best friend. 

How can I _not_ fall in love with this boy? she thought. And even if it doesn’t work out between us, how could I stand myself if I didn’t try? 

“Never mind,” she told him, lacing her fingers through his. And hand in hand, the two walked back towards Gryffindor tower. 

 

If someone had asked Lily Potter what she hated most about her husband, she would have been hard pressed to pick just one answer. He left his clothes scattered about the house, despite her frequent attempts to teach him the use of a hamper. He possessed an absurd quantity of superfluous racing brooms that seemed to fall out of every closet in the entire house. His cooking was better than hers, and he insisted on handling their meals, presumably to rub it in her face. He was thoughtful and considerate throughout her pregnancy, determined to highlight her mood swings by tolerating them serenely, and Lily just _knew_ he was going to take to parenting as effortlessly as he did everything else. In general, Lily considered herself to be an easygoing and friendly woman. But there had never been anyone who could get under her skin like James Potter.


End file.
